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Two questions -if I may- to Nabokovian experts who dislike long e-mails
1. What was VN thinking about his potential translators?
2. Was VN familiar with ancient Greek?
Best regards,
Maria Yamalidou
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Thrilled and excited and in dreadful anxiety (how much have I missed when
translating "Pnin" into Greek?) I would like to celebrate this discussion of
"Pnin" in the forum. I am not a Nabokovian expert (history of science has
been my area of research; the philosophy of history is my pet project) but I
would like to add something to this discussion, as a plea to keep it going.
I have no idea about how Nabokovian experts would rank "Pnin". To the
translator, "Pnin" is a rare gem, a real "pearl". And maybe pearl gray is
the most suitable color for this noble yet playful text. [Those who are
interested in connecting VN to the Cherokee language may wish to know that
the Cherokee word for gray is "very-light-blue"].
So, what have I missed when translating "Pnin"? - this question keeps
echoing in my mind, keeps me sleepless tonight. Surely not the "olefactory"
misspelling, since this word is correctly spelled in the Penguin edition of
1997, on page 83. But how many cryptical allusions has Nabokov inserted in
the text that I had not been able to discern? I brought out all my
translator's notes, all my drafts of "Pnin", all my dictionaries, and all my
memories of that period. I was translating a very difficult text smiling all
the time, because I had the distinctive feeling, all the time, that Nabokov
was playing a game with me (his translator), and quite consciously so.
And the game is not over yet, although the book is out for some years now.
The question remains "what did he really mean?". A question, which is as
important to the translator as it is to the historian. But who is "he" who
"means" something --Nabokov, the narrator or Pnin? And who am I, a "she",
who tries to recreate such a well-balanced text in another language? How
impertinent am I allowed to be in this process of recreation? At points I
felt that Nabokov was challenging me to defy the boundaries of both the
Greek and his own language in order to get the es-sense of the text, if not
its meaning, for the quest for meaning seemed, at times, futile.
Because, if the "Ash-can, Can-can, Cache-Cache" triplet is too playful to be
missed, what can one say for the seemingly innocent assonance "seascapes,
escapes, capes" ["Nothing of the slightest interest to therapist could
Victor be made to discover in those beautiful, beautiful Rorschach ink
blots, wherein children see, or should see, all kinds of things, seascapes,
escapes, capes, the worms of imbecility, neurotic tree trunks, erotic
galoshes, umbrellas and dumb-bells". "Pnin", Penguin, 1997, on p. 76]. How
cryptic or how obvious is the meaning here? Are these just words to be
translated? And omit the sound effect? No way! Any triplet exhibiting an
equivalent assonance would do? But then we will miss the meaning. But what
IS the meaning? I kept thinking, is Nabokov smiling with my efforts to grasp
the meaning? Is the "true meaning' hidden for ever? Quite contrary to the
frequently used phrase "the author is dead", I had the feeling that Nabokov
was alive inside this text, just because the text was answering back to me
in every step of the translation. Taunting my impertinence through its
elusiveness.
An unfinished text on 'The historian as translator' invites me back to such
thoughts from time to time. I need to find the time to fully explicate this
quite delicate game which constitutes the essence of Pnin-translated. But
before being able to do this, the translator-qua-historian needs to know:
where can I find details about what VN "really" thought about his potential
translators. Can anyone help please?
Now, as to other Pninian matters which arose in the discussion:
I think we have the correct pronunciation of the name Pnin within the text
of the novel. On page 89 of the Penguin edition, it is the deaf Mr. Sheppard
who pronounces Pnin's name incorrectly, that is, without the initial 'P':
"It was painted by my mother's schoolmate, Grace Wells; her son, Charlie
Wells, owns that hotel in Waindellville -I am sue Dr Neen has met him -a
very, very fine man"
So, it never bothered me the 'P' as a first letter to Pnin's name. Being
Greek, this does not sound problematic to me. More suspicious to my Greek
ear was the choice of the very names Pnin and Wind. As it has been observed
in the discussion, in both Psyche and Pneuma the initial 'P' is soundless.
Both words have Greek origins. "Psyche" is, one could say, a truly
Nabokovian word meaning "the soul" but in ancient language also "the
butterfly". "Pneuma" means the spirit. What would it take to make "pneuma" a
Nabokovian word as well? "Pneuma" etymologically comes from the word "pneo"
which means "to blow" [but not the infinitive], as in the phrase 'the wind
blows'. Now, Pnin has a spiritual relation with Victor Wind; he feels like a
father to him and behaves like one. "Pneuma" means also a phantasm or
apparition -and what an unworldly creature Pnin is! And last, the infinitive
"to blow" in ancient Greek sounds -believe it or not!- as "pneen".
Translating "Pnin" was an endless game of this kind. At points it was
impossible to decide when to stop chasing after the author, who was hiding
behind the very words through which the plot was being unfolded. But
decisions had to be made -and were made. The text should acquire a final
form -but not a closure. Have I succeeded? Have I failed? In any case it was
an unforgettable adventure. The question that I should have asked myself
earlier is this: was VN familiar with ancient Greek? I would warmly welcome
your expert remarks.
Sorry for this verboseness. I rarely claim your time, but when it comes to
Pnin I can be over-enthusiastic.
Looking forward to reading more, to learning more from you, I thank you for
your patience.
Maria Yamalidou